


Using your black magic on me

by charlie_mou



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/M, Gen, Ghost Noah Czerny, Gryffindor Blue, Gryffindor Ronan Lynch, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders AU, Minor Adam Parrish/Blue Sargeant, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ravenclaw Gansey, Ronan Lynch has a crush, Slytherin Adam Parrish, Werewolf Adam Parrish
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27992904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlie_mou/pseuds/charlie_mou
Summary: Parrish is so fucking beautiful he sometimes forgets he's a Slytherin.Or Marauders AU where Ronan is crushing hard, Adam is oblivious, Gansey and Blue bicker and everyone is awkward at flirting.
Relationships: Noah Czerny & Ronan Lynch, Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 22
Kudos: 124





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Marauders AU inspired by a tumblr post I saw like a year ago about TRC being marauders + Evans. I'm sure it's been done before but well.  
> So, Marauder boys, Werewolf Adam, Blue Evans, Teddy Lupin, ghost Hufflepuff Noah (that doesn't show in the 1-2 chap), borrowed characters from HP (Professor Potter, Malfoy, Longbottom and Scamander) and ignorance of HP's Epilogue.
> 
> The title comes from Black Magic by Jaymes Young.

Adam Parrish's life had a couple of simple yet undeniably impactful truths. His mother is—was—a witch in nothing but name. His father is a squib. There was an accident when he was ten. He can't have friends. He must have secrets.

Adam Parrish's life has been centred around the moon's cycle since he was ten.

Gansey doesn't change that. Gansey _complicates_ that.

The circle of people who know about Adam's furry little problem—as Professor Potter calls it—is slim. It's Headmaster McGonagall, Professor Potter, Professor Longbottom, Professor Malfoy, Teddy Lupin and Robert and Alicia Parrish. Adam does everything he can actually do so that Gansey doesn't join the circle.

He meets Gansey by accident at the end of the fifth year in Muggle studies. Adam takes the class for two reasons—easy O and recognizing what's strictly considered muggle in the wizarding world so he can _avoid_ it. Gansey, however, has a genuine interest in muggle technology and traditions, one that is more like cultural appreciation rather than a fascination. Last five years Adam recognized him as a sheltered boy from a purely magical family who grew surrounded by money and who grew _into_ money, one always with countless people hanging onto his every word and one who surrounded himself with equally rich and sheltered boys of privilege.

Adam wasn't far off. Gansey was all that but also much more. He _is_ sheltered, has no idea what value money has in real life, considers muggles to be almost a different species, and most of his acquaintances are rich, sheltered boys of purely magical families. But he's also undeniable kind and curious, highly educated and knowledgeable, knows more about muggle world than any of his acquaintances, and his one and only friend, although rich, sheltered boy, is by no means like the rest of them.

Ronan Lynch and Gansey is a package deal, Adam learns quickly.

When at the end of the fifth year Gansey and Adam are forced to work on a project for Muggle Studies, Lynch is always there. Muggle Studies class Adam and Gansey are attending is strictly Ravenclaw and Slytherin one. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff have their own one but it doesn't matter—Lynch has never had an actual interest in Muggle Studies, not to mention signing up for a full year of extra classes. As far as Adam knew, his two interests were Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures, subjects Gryffindors and Slytherins shared.

Adam and Gansey met in the library at least twice a week for two months and Ronan Lynch was always there, sitting at the edge of the table, usually with his boots on the counter or another chair, sending Adam a death glare.

"Don't mind him, it's his thing," Gansey's told Adam at the beginning.

So while Gansey was tolerable, Adam could not stand Lynch. Gansey may have been protected from unpleasant experiences his whole life but Lynch was simply a pretentious prick.

"What is your problem?" Adam asks him one day when Lynch keeps on kicking his chair.

"I don't have a problem."

"Really," he says, unimpressed.

Gansey looks between them like he wants to intervene but knows it's not going to end well.

"I don't lie," Lynch adds, staring Adam down. If he was a lesser man, he would be scared—but he wasn't, he had a lifetime experience with people looking at him with hatred. "Unlike you and every Slytherin bastard."

Adam knows what people still think about Slytherins. During the war, most of them were on the dark side, hidden between Death Eaters, or fled the country, not taking part in the war at all. That's why Slytherin house is still the least in numbers—no one wants to be in it, no one wants to be on the dark side of things. It doesn't really count outside of Hogwarts, it's just a school, but here, in the castle, when every year, during the final battle anniversary, the Slytherin table is always separated from the celebration and the memorial.

Declan Lynch is a Slytherin and a Head Boy. Of all things, Adam would have never expected Lynch to hate him for being a Slytherin. Lynch family had a history of being sorted into Slytherin—Niall Lynch, over two decades ago, was a Slytherin Prefect, Declan Lynch was this year's Head Boy but for the past three, he was a Slytherin Prefect and Matthew Lynch had just started his training for next year's Slytherin Seeker.

If anything, Ronan Lynch, a Gryffindor, is the outsider.

Adam had been hated for many reasons but out of all of them, he never expected a Lynch to judge him for being _ambitious and cunning_. For wearing a green tie because it's what Adam thinks the house sorting is—choosing a colour chart you will wear for the next seven years.

Adam doesn't want to argue in the library, of all places. It's not like he can change Lynch's prejudice. "What are you doing here, Lynch?"

"What are _you_ doing here, Parrish?" Lynch counters, like he hasn't realized for the last two weeks, while he creeped on Adam and Gansey, that they have Muggle Studies project to do. "Slytherin in a muggle class, learning what you can torment mudbloods for? What's so pathetic about them?"

"Ronan—" Gansey starts, fidgeting. He's been useless the whole conversation, probably knowing Lynch couldn't be stopped.

Adam doesn't back from a challenge and looks Lynch dead in the eyes while he says, "I'm a muggleborn, you toff."

It's not a complete truth but a simplified one—his mother, after all, attended Hogwarts, but when she met his father, she never used magic again, not wanting to anger him with what he couldn't have. His father, a squib and family's black sheep, hates magic enough that they lived like muggles, up until Adam's letter arrived when he turned eleven.

It's not common knowledge outside of his house—Slytherin students and professors were the ones who had to explain how the magical world works to Adam—but it's not a secret. He may be trash from Newham and may have lived in the attic of a one-bedroom semi-detached house but he isn't going to hide it. In these times, being muggleborn wasn't something he has ever felt ashamed of—it's still harder, to find some jobs, but with a muggleborn Minister Granger rebuilding the wizarding world from scratch, no one seems to care.

No one but Lynch, apparently.

It gives Adam some sick satisfaction, seeing Lynch freeze, still leaning over the table, a bit wide-eyed and suddenly so tense.

Gansey looks like he's about to jump out of the chair and hide behind one of the heavy bookcases. "Back to the project, please."

Adam pulls the book closer to his chest, raising an eyebrow at Lynch, daring him to add something. Lynch licks his lips, leans down on the chair—backs off.

He doesn't stop staring at Adam.

* * *

Most students don't like Professor Malfoy and Adam can understand why. His teaching methods are a bit unorthodox, in the way that he allows his students to make mistakes that can potentially kill them and in the way he lacks the usual warmth Hogwarts teachers posses.

But he also volunteered to prepare wolfsbane potion for local werewolves and as soon as Adam will be eligible to take wolfsbane potion, he will do a portion big enough for Adam too.

The whole potion thing is a bit more complex than one would think. The ingredients are too expensive for an average wizard—and can't be funded by the Ministery, like many other medications—not to mention a poor muggleborn like Adam. The potion itself was too complex for many to do and even potion masters, like Professor Malfoy, had trouble brewing it.

And not everyone could take it—werewolf women, despite the general rumours, could conceive but then, pregnant, couldn't take wolfsbane and almost always lose their pregnancies by the first full moon; elders weren't strong enough, people with serious long-term illnesses couldn't.

Teenagers who are underweight couldn't.

It's been explained to Adam like that: wolfsbane—or aconite—is actually poison. Although during brewing the potion its toxicity lowers, it's still too much for children, elders, people with serious health conditions. And underweight teens.

Adam's height is a little below average for his age, but his weight is around hundred pounds—or less, after a full moon—which disqualifies him from taking the potion, even though he could technically be taking it since the fourth year. With Adam's messed up metabolism, lack of food at home and regular full moons, gaining the needed thirty pounds that could be ideal for taking poisonous potions proves impossible.

However, Professor Malfoy still teaches Adam how to actually brew it. Although Professor Malfoy doesn't say it outright, Adam is his best student so far—Professor Malfoy might not say it but Professor Potter retells him everything Professor Malfoy admits to him in the teaching quarters—so, oftentimes, it's Adam as his assistant, not a sixth or seventh year, but a fifth-year muggleborn who basically crushed everyone academically since his second year at Hogwarts.

So Adam is cutting the ingredients when Professor Malfoy looks at the half-open door and snorts in that disapproving way he always does whenever he sees students that hate Potions. Which means ninety per cent of Hogwarts.

"Stray Griffons are obnoxiously hard to drive away," he says. "Take my word for that."

Adam looks at his cold face—because his face always looks like a statue, dead and unmovable—and glances to the half-open door and stares at it for a couple of minutes. A figure swooshes through the visible space and Adam sees a blink of red and black curls flopping over dishevelled robes.

He puts the knife away for a second.

Professor Malfoy moves around the cauldron, heating it with a silent _incendio_. He's not wearing his robes, as isn't Adam—he allows his students to take them off during lessons too, since it's harder to mess up something without the flared sleeves—wears Slytherin green cardigan and dress trousers, with a tie that must be spelt to be this straight.

He gives Adam a meaningful stare and whispers, "He's been pacing there for an hour now."

Adam doesn't answer to that, stares at the door so strongly that if he could cast wandlessly, they would definitely close. He can almost see Lynch's stupid perfect hair sticking from around the doorframe.

"He did it last week too. And a week before that, as a matter of fact."

This time, Professor Malfoy has an amused spark in his eye, glancing at Adam with what Professor Potter refers as his Slytherin prick smile. He knows why he refers to it as such.

Looking up, he notices sharp steel-blue eyes, partially hidden behind dark hair and a red tie peeking out from around the door. He glances up to Professor Malfoy, expecting him to give Lynch detention or take points from Gryffindor but he's staring back at Adam, like it's his choice to make.

Adam sighs and swipes his wand from the countertop, stepping around the table.

One nonverbal _colloportus_ and the door closes on Lynch's face.

Professor Malfoy doesn't laugh became he's too dignified to laugh, but he snorts as if Adam being stalked by stupid Gryffindor boys is a source of great entertainment.

* * *

The Muggle Studies continues for almost three months, during which Adam regularly sees Gansey—and Lynch—twice a week.

And then seeing Gansey doesn't stop

Even when Adam disappears for two days to _visit his sick mother_.

Muggle Studies project is supposed to last up until Easter holidays and they get an O on it and Adam, while they do a presentation together, thinks it's the last time they are talking together.

It isn't.

Just the day after the presentation, Gansey tracks him down in the library, where Adam spends the majority of his time between Divination workshops with Persephone, apprenticeship with Professor Malfoy, greenhouse lessons with Professor Longbottom, and extra classes with Professor Potter.

As one might conclude, Adam doesn't have many friends his age. It's a euphemism, really.

His house is, despite the rumours, never treated him differently because he's a muggleborn. There are, of course, some purists but they don't open their mouth in public and make their own groups. Slytherin house is lacking members—there are only six boys in Adam's year—so everyone supports each other but it doesn't mean _friendship_. Two people closest to being his friends are actually from outside of his house—a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff.

* * *

Blue is Persephone's daughter/niece—it's kind of vague—so Adam often sees her in the North Tower, that's how they met.

Adam met Blue during their third year—third years started their Divination lessons and the first day, Adam and Blue were the only ones without a pair. She sat next to him when Persephone told her to and introduced herself.

"Blue?" he asked. "Like the colour?"

"No, like the spell," she said, and she managed to sound almost as sarcastic as Professor Malfoy.

He liked her instantly.

She was different than anyone he knew. She knew so much about Divination and was absolutely crappy at it—which made them a perfect pair because he knew only the basics but had talent, they complemented one another.

She didn't care that Adam was studying most of the time, that she had to explain to him some basic wizard politics, that Adam asked her why some symbols meant that and not something else, almost every lesson. She was the first, and only, Gryffindor Adam got along with.

She sat at the Slytherin table, ignoring curious glances from everyone, she just didn't care—Adam would give everything to not care to the extend she did.

She asked him to come to her Quidditch team tryouts.

"Am I even allowed to? I'm from a different house."

Blue just made a face. "Do I look like I care?"

It took some convincing Weasley that Adam wasn't going to spy for Slytherins—Adam not knowing what Blue even had to do for the seeker position helped—but Adam finally sat down on the bleachers.

Blue showed up ten minutes later, wearing Gryffindor gear. She flew up and looked up to Adam, yelling, "Cheer me on!" like that was something Adam's Slytherin reputation allowed.

He didn't know what to do so he cast a _periculum_ , and red sparks left his wand, resembling fireworks.

Blue facepalmed on her broom.

"This is what happens when you get a discounted Slytherin instead of full price Hufflepuff," she told him when she got the trainee seeker position and they were going back to the library.

They hanged out more, usually sitting in the North Tower. Persephone asked Adam to help her more than any other student and he doesn't mind, not really, but it sometimes got lonely. Blue sitting next to him when he did a tarot reading after tarot reading, whispering tips when drinks tea from the Cup of Destiny for tassoemancy, or helping him crystal balls—it was weirdly reassuring.

Adam's house thought Divination is a joke—the majority of wizards did, really—so there was no one to talk about it, but Blue's mum and her aunts/step-mums were Seers so she actually believed in what Adam saw or read. She also promised she will help him look for centaurs in the Forbidden Forest, once the weather was better, since Adam wanted to ask them to teach him whatever they could teach wizards.

Then, in late November, the ravens began to show. They were made of paper, like a complex origami, but charmed to act like real birds—it seemed absolutely amazing, this kind of display of magic and skill.

The first raven, one who slipped into Slytherin common room, soared around Adam's head twice and landed on his knee, flapping its wing before turning completely still.

It had a tiny, _open me_ , written on its beak.

"Someone has a crush on you, Parrish," Nick, one of his upperclassmen, teased.

There was a single sentence inside. _Your eyes look like the winter sky_. Whoever wrote that, probably meant some different winter sky because the Scottish one looked like murky, dirty water for most of the time.

His cheeks turned red and the next thing he knew, the paper travelled in the hands of every boy in the common room.

The ravens didn't stop. He got another one in the library— _Your skin is more golden than pure gold_ —another one in the Great Hall— _I'd like to hold your hands._ Each of them was embarrassing because his whole house knew what was inside.

Finally, another one arrived when he was with Professor Potter and Teddy, in the DADA classroom, learning how to neutralize boggarts.

Adam wasn't allowed to try it in the classroom.

"Do they always look like a full moon?" he asked, before Professor Potter opened the chest.

"From what I know, yes," he admitted. "Usually, it's what people with _furry little problem_ fear most."

 _Usually_.

Adam hated being a werewolf, knowing he could hurt someone if he wasn't careful enough, knowing that it will get into the way of getting a permanent, well-paying job, knowing it's another choice that was taken away from him. But he could get used to that. He did. It was just another feature that made him unknowable, something that guaranteed him a solitary future, something that made Adam cower into himself. Every full moon hurt—bones breaking and healing all over again, cuts, bruises and grazings scarring his skin—but he could take it. And yet, every summer spent with his parents in Newham felt worse.

Adam didn't want to see his father instead. Didn't want Professor Potter or Teddy to see his father. To know.

"Is there anything else you're afraid of?" Teddy asked, when Adam didn't speak up for a long time. He was sitting on one of the desks, his feet swinging impatiently.

Professor Potter locked the chest again, frowning.

"Adam, is something—" he trailed off, looking somehow behind Adam. "What's that?"

Teddy groaned. "Oh, come on, another one?" He, too, previously saw Adam getting the notes.

A paper raven flew around the room in circles before landing on Adam's shoulder, preening its wings and then freezing.

Adam's cheeks turned red.

"What does this one say?" Teddy asked, walking up to him.

Adam took the raven and tried to hold it away but Teddy, half a head taller and long-limbed didn't have a problem reaching for it.

" _Stupefy_ ," Adam tried before Teddy opened it.

Of course, Teddy had his wand in his hand and cast a _protego_ just in time, with a smug grin.

"Boys," Professor Potter said, his wand making a silent _expelliarmus_. Both their wands landed in his hands. "What's this all about?"

"Adam is getting love notes."

"Those aren't love notes," he protested. Both Teddy _and_ Professor Potter raised their eyebrows. "They _aren't_."

Teddy opened the raven. "Let's see what your secret admirer says this time." Teddy's hair turned red, matching his darkening cheeks. " _Your freckles look like stars. I've found Virgo on your cheek—I wish it was my zodiac sign_."

Professor Potter snickered and tried to cover it up with a fumbling cough.

"Uhm, Adam, how long have you been getting these—notes?"

"A few weeks now," he admitted. "I think—I think they are from Blue."

Adam wasn't exactly sure if they were, in fact, from Blue. But one of the boys from his year pointed out that Blue was the only person he spent most of his time, and the only girl Adam was actively _friendly_ with. She was also absent whenever Adam received the ravens. It didn't sit with him right—Blue didn't seem like the type who would tiptoe around something she wanted to say—she was too direct to hide behind notes. But there wasn't anyone else.

"Blue Sargent? Are you sure it isn't—" Professor Potter started. "Nevermind that. What are you going to do about them?"

Adam didn't really plan that far ahead.

"I don't know, I think she expects me to ask her to Hogsmeade—"

Teddy rolled his eyes. "Every girl wants to go to Hogsmeade."

"—but I don't have permission to go," Adam continued.

Teddy and Professor Potter looked at each other, having a silent conversation for a minute.

" _Uncle Harry_ ," Teddy protested, crossing his arms. "This isn't fair, you don't even let me use it."

"You don't need it, do you?" Professor Potter countered. "And I'm sure Adam wouldn't mind sharing."

"Sharing what?"

Professor Potter and Teddy exchanged looks again.

Professor Potter cleared his throat. "I'm going to my office now and I'll definitely be disappointed if you were to look into the second drawer of my desk and steal my magical map of Hogwarts for your personal use."

And then he left to his office.

Teddy scattered to the desk, reaching into the second drawer. He took out an old piece of parchment, found his wand on the desktop—where Professor Potter left it—and said, "I solemnly swear I'm up to no good."

It didn't sound promising.

A blueprint of the castle appeared on the paper, slowly taking the shapes of the rooms, corridors, and towers.

"What's that?"

Teddy grinned. "It's Marauder's Map, it shows everything and everyone in Hogwarts," he said. "My dad and his friends made it while he was studying here, so they could sneak around the castle."

"Your dad?" he asked. Adam looked back from the map to his face. "I can't take it, Teddy."

Teddy didn't have many things left after his parents—his metamorphmagus ability, his Grandparents, his Godfather, a useless Order of Merlin. Adam was going to take even a small part of that tiny legacy he had.

"Don't be ridiculous, it's not like it won't use it too," he said. He was silent for a moment and then, added, "It's not really—Uncle Harry says my dad was different after Hogwarts, after the First War. The map isn't like him anymore."

Adam didn't feel reassured.

"Look, there's a passage to Honeydukes. You could go to the Shrieking Shack too, but it's quite far away from Hogsmeade and you probably don't want to go there outside of—you know."

He didn't even know the Shrieking Shack was near Hogsmeade.

Adam really didn't want to go to the Shrieking Shack.

He asked Blue to Hogsmeade. She said yes. They met next to Honeydukes.

* * *

"How's Richie Rich and the Assholey Asshole?"

"Blue," Adam reprimands. "You could do so much better. Assholey asshole has no creativity."

They both smile.

"Lychee Lynch doesn't really sound right, does it?" she asks, nudging Adam with her elbow.

He rolled his eyes, preparing a table for a reading. Persephone disappeared in her office, preparing something less safe—Adam was going to scry with her for the first time.

"If you haven't hung out with them so much, I wouldn't have run out of insults," Blue notices.

He hasn't planned on it but it happened—Gansey seems to be everywhere now, always rambles to Adam about something, sitting with him in class, asking for help with studying. And wherever Gansey was, there was Lynch.

It also meant that whenever Gansey, there wasn't Blue. Adam straight-up saw her turn around mid-step when she noticed Adam wasn't alone in the library.

"Why do you hate them so much anyway?"

"I don't hate them," she said, crossing her arms. "I just wish I could hex their mouths shut. Permanently."

Adam could relate to that. Gansey has no self-awareness or any kind of awareness about the world around him. And Lynch is simply an asshole that doesn't know when to shut up.

"I haven't seen you talking to them even once," he noticed. "And we've known each other for almost three years."

"We've been _friends_ for three years, you can say the word, it won't kill you."

Sometimes it feels like it will.

He looks at Blue expectedly. She sighs, shrugging. " _Dick_ called me a prostitute."

Adam waits for the rest of the joke. There's no rest of the joke because there's no joke.

He starts laughing. It doesn't really seem that impossible with Gansey.

"Sod off," Blue tells him. "He said that he wants to _borrow me_ because I lived in Muggle town before and _he_ _will pay me for my time_. Who does that?"

"Richard Campbell Gansey III," he says. "Well, at least he must have learnt something because—When did it happen?"

"Beginning of the fourth year."

Adam could imagine fourth year Blue, with new colourful braids and cut-off uniform skirt, approached by Gansey and his perfect clothes and politician smile. He regrets he hasn't seen that.

"Well, he must have learnt something because when he asked me to be his _Muggle help_ —" Blue snorts at that. "—for Easter, he didn't offer to pay me for it."

It sounds like a confession—he knew Blue doesn't like Gansey and he—he might not have explicitly sought him out but he didn't tell him off either, not like he told Lynch off.

To be honest, he wants to go with Gansey. Adam spends most of his holidays in the castle with Professor Potter and Teddy, or in Grimmauld Place, if they decide to leave for holidays—Professor Potter basically became his uncle, too. His summers are filled with work in the garage, or waiting tables, or delivering food—whichever he can find some illegal work at—he's lived in London his whole life but he hasn't seen even the half of it, confined to the poorest part of Newham.

His magical world wasn't much broader—Diagon Alley, Leaky Cauldron, Grimmauld Place, Hogsmeade. Hogwarts used to feel like his safe haven but, over the years, it's slowly become another cage.

Adam wanted to see more of the world and sitting in Hogsmeade with Blue or eating the same badly done pudding with Professor Potter couldn't give him that.

"Did you accept?" Blue asks.

"I haven't decided yet," he lies, looking at the shuffled cards in his hands and putting them down on the table. "I have to visit my mum, at least for a couple of days."

The full moon was on Tuesday the second week of the holidays. He needed to get back to Hogwarts by then.

Blue flicks a card at him, the one from the top of the deck.

"We won't stop being friends just because your other friend is a prat, you know."

Ah, the word-that-should-not-be-said, again.

"I know," he says. "I think I will go for a week or so if anything. I could floo to London." Or Hogwarts.

Blue flicks another card at him. Adam picks both of them up.

 _The Fool_. Hope. Change. Beginnings. Travel.

 _The Emperor_. Respect. Father figure.

He takes another card from the pile.

 _Death_. Big changes. Endings. Tragedy. Moving on.

It's not like it's accurate—Blue picked the two of the cards and she had no gift for prophecy. He doesn't know how to interpret beginning and ending together, the reading didn't make sense.

"You shuffled the deck, Adam," Persephone says when she leaves her office and joins them in the classroom. "You asked the question."

Adam doesn't ask _what_ question—he knows Persephone won't answer.

* * *

When Ronan began his third year, he met Adam Parrish. Although _met_ might be a generous word—Malfoy, pissed off by Gryffindors' bad grades, decided to mix houses into pairs. It lasted for one lesson, as Gryffindors and Slytherins hated each other and it only made all their grades work.

Ronan's pair was Adam Parrish. He, of course, heard about Adam Parrish before, as he was generally considered to be Malfoy's pet student—he always sat somewhere in the first row, on the opposite end of the room from Ronan and Ronan didn't really try to look for him when Malfoy praised him for one thing or another. He didn't like Potions and certainly wasn't going to like it more listening to a Slytherin prick praising another Slytherin prick.

Ronan tried to forget Slytherins even existed.

And then the most beautiful boy sat next to him, taking out his little cauldron.

When Ronan was ten and his dad took him and Declan to one of those enormous National Magical Farm Market, he let them roam free as long as they kept together

They were just buying caramel apples when Declan turned around, staring at one of the women who just left a tent, caring a booklet of silver wool.

Before Ronan realized, almost everyone's turned to her and he nudged Declan so he would finally pay for the apples.

"Hey," he tried again, hitting his arm.

The women, with golden skin and light blond hair, might have been pretty but she didn't seem pretty enough to stare at her like that. In truth, their Ma was prettier.

The women smiled, frustrated, said a quick, "Sorry," and disappeared back in the tent.

When they asked later about it, Declan blushing, they dad said, "She was probably a half-veela, their beauty is magical enough to charm almost all men."

Ronan hadn't felt charmed.

But when the boy sat down next to him, he was sure he was a veela because he felt straight-up _bewitched_.

He had the same kind of golden, warm skin the woman at the market had, among with tiny freckles sprinkled on his cheeks and nose, and his eyes reminded Ronan of the winter sky at the Barns. There was a pale scar running down his neck and another one close to his ear but it was all dimmed by how prominent his cheekbones were and how sharp his eyes seemed.

His gaze pierced Ronan. He realized the boy had been saying something.

"I'll warm up the cauldron while you go for ingredients."

Ronan's brain shortcircuited. "Ingredients?"

The boy, _Adam_ , sighed. Even this was a beautiful sound.

"I hate group work," he added, before turning around and going to the ingredients cupboard at the back of the classroom.

Ronan observed him the whole way there and back.

Adam raised an eyebrow looking at him, with his arms crossed.

He sighed again, and said, words pretty and perfectly shaped, " _Incendio_."

The cauldron's bottom burst into flames. The fire made Adam's face look even more golden warm.

Adam took a step towards him, his face suddenly close enough that Ronan could see ever freckle—they looked like a starry night, like the constellations his Ma taught him about on the nights they both couldn't sleep. He was sure there was Virgo spread on his left cheek, one arm of the constellation climbing up his nose.

"Listen," Adam said, his voice smooth like honey, making Ronan's heart spike. "My grades won't get worse because of some Gryffindor, I'll do everything alone. You can pretend you're helping or not. I don't care what Professor Malfoy says about it."

Ronan only then realized they were brewing a potion together. He was crap at Potions.

"I'll watch," he replied.

Adam gave him a look.

Ronan realized saying this was probably weird only when Malfoy was already calling them to bring their potions to his desk.

Before he could say that would make him less of a creep, Adam was gone, and Ronan finally regained the ability to speak.

He watched Adam, from that moment. In the Great Hall, in any of the classes they shared. He entered every Potions lesson five minutes late, so he could see Adam sitting in front of Malfoy's desk, just for the minute or two Malfoy used to take the points from his house.

People didn't react to Adam like to that woman at the market—but it might have been because he was a boy or maybe something less than half-veela, like quarter-veela.

"You're smart," he told Gansey one day, in the Great Hall. "What do veelas like?"

Gansey perked up—maybe at the compliment, maybe at the opportunity to ramble about a subject he liked.

"Veelas are interesting, aren't they? My aunt is a half-veela and my uncle says they are just like every girl but prettier and he says he wooed my aunt with fresh flowers, sweets and being a gentleman but I'm sure every girl would like that. Veelas just want to feel normal, despite the charm they have. My aunt—"

Ronan interrupted him before he said more, "But what about boy veelas? Do they—What do they like?"

Gansey look at him, brows furrowed.

"They aren't any male veelas. Veelas are exclusively female."

"You're lying."

Gansey crossed his arms. "I'm not. Professor Potter taught us about veelas last year."

Maybe he had. Ronan didn't really pay attention.

"But—"

Maybe it was time to admit it—he had a crush. It's not like he didn't know that, he just thought it was Adam's _charm_. Maybe it was just time to do something about it, there was only one going out to Hogsmeade before Christmas break.

He approached Adam after Herbology, with a prepared speech. The prepared speech evaporated from his mind as soon as Adam put his gaze on him.

"Do you want to go to Hogsmeade, together?" he asked.

"I don't even know you," Adam said.

It was really sad, that Adam didn't remember him, but he tried not to get discouraged.

"But we could get to know each other," he replied and then, added. "We can go to Honeydukes."

It sounded like a smart thing to say—Adam liked chocolate enough that Ronan had seen him eating it instead of dinner sometimes. His favourites were caramel and mint.

"I can't," Adam said. "I don't have permission to go to Hogsmeade."

He perked up at that. "I can buy some chocolate for you and we can eat it together in the evening, on Saturday."

Adam's cheeks coloured, some of his freckles disappeared in the rosy shade.

"I don't want you to buy me _anything_."

"But—"

Adam turned around, still red-cheeked. "I have to go to class."

He didn't say anything when Ronan walked him the whole way to Potter's classroom. Adam was a couple of minutes late while, by the time Ronan entered Charms classroom, people were already packing their things.

Adam, whenever he saw him, avoided his gaze, his cheeks always red. Ronan felt like on cloud nine.

And then he went to Hogsmeade and, leaving Honeydukes with chocolate caramel squares and mint bubble chocolate and truffles and chocolate lollipops, saw Adam talking to Blue Sargent, Gryffindor's trainee seeker.

He bought all the sweets home, gave them all to Matty. He never talked to Adam again.

* * *

He still thinks Adam Parrish is part-veela. He's just too beautiful.

He stands there, in the middle of the field, with a perfect tie, perfect robes, perfect face. Rosy cheeks. Sharp blue eyes. He looks cold.

Care of Magical Creatures is Ronan's favourite subject, mostly because it's one of the subjects he can actually use in the future, and because this is something his Ma loved—she was a magizoologist herself, just like Newt Scamander, who was responsible for the practical part of the lessons.

"Today, we're going to meet Dorothy, a Demiguise." All the creatures Scamader shows them have crazy names.

Ronan's seen a Demiguise before, twice. They are rather calm creatures but not too trusting—when scared, they turn invisible.

"Who would like to introduce us to who demiguises are?"

The whole group silences out. Most of the students take Care of Magical Creatures as something easy so no one studies outside of exams. Ronan could raise his hand but it would ruin his reputation. He nudges Parrish instead.

He turns sideways to Ronan, glaring, and Ronan notices a fresh gash running down his jaw that he hasn't seen two days ago.

"Don't you want to win some points for the snakes, smartass?"

They are standing awfully close because Parrish really looks so cold that Ronan instinctively leans into his space. Parrish's cheeks are rosy pink, a shade that makes his freckles, faded by the winter, barely visible.

The same moment, Scamander repeats, "Anyone?" He sounds as awkward as Ronan feels.

Parrish sighs, raising his hand.

"Mr Parrish," Scamander says, a tad bit less awkward. "Would you like to share what you know about demiguises?"

"They are very intelligent creatures," Adam begins, standing tall when all the eyes turn to him. "They have the ability to turn invisible so their fur is widely used by poachers to make temporary invisible cloaks. But, since demiguises can predict the future, a majority of them is caught early after birth. They do not have a strict inhabitation but they prefer jungles and forests."

"Perfect," Scamander says. "Would you like to hold her?"

Adam stands there, staring at Dorothy and her huge eyes. "I—"

Ronan nudges him again. "What? You afraid she'll bite?"

"Of course not, you idiot. I just said she's intelligent, she won't bite unless I intend to harm her."

Something warm and mushy blooms in Ronan's chest for a moment. There aren't many people who know at least _something_ about magical creatures or who don't refer to them as _it_ , and there's even less of them who _trust_ magical creatures. Parrish is too perfect to be real.

Scamander calls him up again, still smiling warmly with Dorothy in his arms.

Parrish takes a few steps closer. When he's in front of Scamander, he looks Dorothy in the eyes and lightly bows—nothing but perfect etiquette, even with animals.

Then he shows an open hand, palm to Dorothy, close to his chest, and slowly extends it to the creature. It's a gesture Scamander taught them all at the beginning of the third year, as something that should be neutral with most creatures. Parrish waits for the demiguise's reaction.

Of course, there isn't a creature who isn't instantly taken with him so Dorothy puts her palm on his. Ronan hears someone coo.

Then Dorothy leans away from Scamander and wraps her long arms around Parrish's neck.

"Off you go," Scamander says, transferring her into Adam's hands.

Parrish, for a barely visible second, looks tense. Then, he manoeuvres Dorothy into a bit more comfortable position and holds out one hand to her.

"I'm Adam," he says to her.

Ronan doesn't know many people who genuinely talk to animals that aren't cats and dogs—who aren't cuddly and have the kind of eyes that seem to understand—but of course, Parrish is one of them.

Dorothy gently puts her palm on his hand and tucks her head under his chin. Ronan's cold dead heart is melting but he isn't going to coo like some people in the back are.

Scamander starts on his lecture and Ronan can't hear what Parrish is whispering to Dorothy. He moves closer to him, standing a few feet away, out of the demiguise's reach

"Are you alright up here?" Parrish is saying when Ronan steps into hearing range.

Dorothy leans back, watching Parrish's face with her huge eyes—for a moment, he thinks she looked at Ronan too. She licks her palm and smears it over Parrish's cheek. He doesn't even flinch, Ronan will give him that.

He still snorts.

Parrish looks up, an eyebrow raised with a silent _I dare you to comment on this_. Ronan never backs down from a dare.

"She giving you a bath, Parrish? You finally won't be stinking like the dungeons."

The demiguise's eyes flash—she's seeing the future—and she purrs.

Parrish turns his face so he's looking straight at Ronan. And, ah, yes, demiguise's drool has healing properties. The gush on Adam's face is now a pink, shiny scar.

Parrish holds out one of his arms and his wand slips out of his sleeve—it looks awfully elegant and Ronan wonders how he did it.

Adam casts a nonverbal spell in Ronan's direction, one he couldn't recognize. It would be impressive if it actually worked, that is, but nothing happens.

He rolls his eyes—those pretty eyes—at Ronan, adjust Dorothy in his arms and moves closer to Scamander.

Ronan wants to follow him but his feet catch, can't move away from each other, tagging, and before he knows, he's lying on the ground.

His shoelaces were tied a second ago but when he gets up, surrounded by snickering, they are back to normal.

Parrish is so fucking beautiful he sometimes forgets he's a Slytherin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, I'd like to say sorry to anyone who is Irish and reading this. My knowledge about Ireland comes down to an Irish month in my English classes when I was 15 and a Dublin guidebook I bought planning the holidays before the pandemic.
> 
> Second, this was getting so long I decided to split it into two chapters so it might seem a bit abruptly ended or feel like a filler chapter.
> 
> Third, my fav quote of this chapter: _He’s asking if their cow has a name. Ronan’s never met a more perfect man._

Adam decides he'll take the invite for a bit over a week. Professor Potter approved, saying something about it being the time that Adam has some friends his age. Professor Malfoy had a different perspective on things.

"Lynch and Gansey are families worth knowing, it's never too early to do some networking."

Which Adam kind of agreed but not really. If he can help it, he'll have nothing in common with the Lynch family.

To which Persephone said something along the lines, "Oh, you're in for a surprise. Don't forget to send me an invite," but Adam realized she doesn't always make sense somewhere in the middle of the third year and he wasn’t moved.

So Adam packs his own miserable luggage and leaves on the train with Gansey and Lynch.

In London, Adam expects for them to go for a portkey to wherever they were going to go but instead they are picked up by a woman with blonde hair, almost as light as Professor Malfoy's, and blue eyes that resembled Lynch's. Both Lynch and Gansey fleet to her between the crowd and Adam has no other choice but to follow them.

"Hello, honey," she says when they're in the hearing range. She has a weird accent, one that sounds like a north-west English but at the same time accents some words in an American way. It was a very weird mix. "Hello, Gansey, Adam."

Adam looks a bit wide-eyed at her, realizing that _honey_ was referring to Lynch.

She chuckles at him, making direct eye contact. "You're spot on, sweetheart. I'm from America but my Ma was from Manchester."

Adam frowns. "How—"

"—did I know what you thought? Has none of the boys told you?" she asks, smiling kindly. "I'm a Legilimens."

Ronan says, "It means she can read your thoughts."

"I'm a muggleborn, not an idiot," Adam replies out of habit, irritation raising with Lynch's bullshit, like always.

The woman chuckles again.

"Sorry, ma'am," Adam adds. Lynch turns away and Adam sees the tips of his ears redden, probably out of anger. "That wasn't right of me."

"It's alright, sweetheart," she says. "I'm Aurora, Ronan's mum. You can just call me Aurora."

"Are you going to be alright with apparating?" Gansey butts in when the tension between Adam and Ronan doesn't disappear. "I haven't thought quite so far ahead, have you apparated before?"

Gansey has no way to know it since legally they're not allowed to even _learn_ to Apparate until they're six months before their seventeenth birthday but Adam, still fifteen, learnt to Apparate during Christmas break, in the Room of Requirments. It was illegal but so were most of the things he did with Professor Potter were.

"He'll be fine," Aurora says, rolling her eyes. "Grab my hand, would you, Adam?"

Before Adam could react, Aurora reached for his hand and his luggage floated up to both Gansey's and Lynch's trunks, behind Gansey's back. She reached for Gansey next, not leaving Lynch any other choice but to hold Adam's hand.

Lynch's face is still angry red colour, striking on his pale skin, and he's scowling at the ground like it was the worst punishment one could experience.

"Where are we apparating, then?"

Gansey hasn't told him where exactly they were going to—Gansey's estate, because he had a whole _estate_ , is somewhere in North Cornwall, has been there for generations since King Arthur, Gansey's ancestor, lived there.

"To Wicklow," Aurora supplies.

Gansey, although Adam couldn't see him from around Aurora, says, with his politician smile, "To Ireland."

"We're going home," Aurora adds. "Ready to apparate?"

Lynch's hand squeezes his, already sweaty.

* * *

Adam was prepared to visit Gansey's house, not Lynch's. He signed up for spending Easter with Gansey, and although he is aware now that Lynch's presence would be unavoidable, he thought they would be left alone for a couple of days at least. No such luck.

He's expecting the Lynches to have another big estate that would accompany the generational wealth and pureblood status. A small villa with a botanic garden, a beach house, or even a freakish Victorian mansion.

There's a farm. With a farmhouse and a few barns in the distance, and a small vintage playground next to the main building.

He thinks about Declan Lynch's orderly appearance—shirts, suits, dress pants, straight tie in the colour of his socks. Between Declan and Ronan, with combat boots, high-waisted black jeans and black tank tops instead of uniform shirts, Adam thought Declan was the rightful representation of Lynch family.

Apparently, Adam is always wrong about Lynches. Well, not always, he is damn sure Ronan Lynch is an asshole.

Aurora smiles at Adam in a way that suggests she's seconds away from laughing, which makes Adam's cheeks warm, and in a way that reminds him of Matthew Lynch, who, despite being only a second year, has already been named Slytherin's ray of sunshine.

They walk around the driveway of the farmhouse, Gansey asking Aurora about lunch while Lynch trails behind Adam. He let go of Adam's hand as if it burnt him.

"Where are your brothers?" he asks, realizing that they hadn't seen both Declan and Matthew, on the platform.

Lynch crosses his arms, with familiar angry expression slipping on, "Why do you care? Already missing your Slytherin friends?"

Adam holds back a sigh, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. "If you don't want to answer, just say you don't, Lynch."

"Don't ask stupid questions then I won't have to answer," Lynch says, doing the whole jaw thing, where it clenches and juts out. Adam hates that he notices it enough to realize this is a habit.

"If you didn't want me to be here, you should have said so before we apparated over the Irish Sea," he remarks. "Now it's a bit late, don't you think?"

Lynch groans and speeds up and passes Adam and his mum along with Gansey, his ears getting red again.

Aurora shakes her head at him. "Don't mind him, he's just grumpy," she tells Adam.

Gansey sighs like this is something that happens on a regular basis.

"This is your fault, Gansey," he addresses him, only half-joking. "I thought we're staying at your house, I wouldn't have agreed if I knew I'd be imposing on someone else."

"You're not imposing, sweetheart," Aurora says, climbing the couple of stairs to the porch. "You're always welcome here. _Always_."

Ronan is not in the house but Aurora just tells Gansey to go to his usual room and the room on the right to it will be Adam's. The farmhouse must be under expansion charm—it looked small on the outside but the corridors seem to never end.

Gansey shows Adam a room with queen-sized bed, wide window that makes him afraid of heights and a wardrobe the size of Adam's attic in London.

"Are you sure it's alright for me to stay here?" he asks Gansey, before he manages to leave. "I'm not exactly on speaking terms with Lynch."

The only reason Adam agreed to go was because sleepovers and staying over the holidays was something friends would do, something that had nothing to do with money or favours. And although Adam didn't know what it exactly meant to be friends, Gansey has referred to them as such.

Lynch certainly isn't Adam's friend.

Gansey stands next to the night table fidgeting with the fresh flowers that someone must have put there just before they arrived.

"Of course it is, I wouldn't offer if it wasn't," Gansey answers, slightly put-off. "It was Ronan's idea, I just think he wasn't really—Well, in the mood isn't quite the word, but you get my meaning."

Adam, obviously, doesn't believe him, he wasn't born yesterday—Lynch hates him. Unless someone gives him a portkey to Hogwarts or Floo he could use to reach Hogsmeade, he doesn't have any other options, both Hogsmeade and Hogwarts are under anti-apparition charms. Apparating to Newham before a full moon isn't a wise decision, even if he apparates outside of the house—it always makes the wolf more agitated, more _brutal_.

Adam decides to change the subject. "What do you want to do first? We have time until Friday then most muggle stuff will be closed until Tuesday."

Gansey takes a minute to think about it, not feeling even a tad bit awkward. It's something that Adam both admires and hates about him—the way he's unapologetic about thinking everything through before he says it is something Adam learnt out of must, in his own house, but Gansey makes it look like it's right, like he was born with it. However, when Gansey, on a rare occasion, doesn't think before he speaks, his brain-to-mouth filter ceases to exist and he says stuff like, _I'll pay you for your time_.

"I don't really know, I definitely want to see some of those muggle history museums," Gansey notes. "But I've never been to a muggle town, so anything would be fine."

"Never?" Adam asks. Somehow between Gansey's weird fascination and immoral propositions, Adam assumed he at least visited a muggle town. No wonder why he treats muggles like a different species.

"The automobiles scare me," Gansey deadpans. If anyone else said that, Adam would think they were joking.

"You mean cars, right?" People stopped using the word _automobile_ in the thirties but wizards were always at least about seventy years behind muggles so Adam wasn't surprised at the use.

"Yes, I was in London, once, briefly, and it seemed that the _cars_ were about to hit me every second."

"Ah," Adam says. "That's just London drivers. Or big-city drivers, being honest."

"Do you suppose it'll be the same in Dublin then? It's not too far from here so I thought we could go there, take one of those metal boxes on wheels—the ones that can't move outside of their path?"

"Trains," he supplies, blinking. "You mean trains."

"Yes, trains," Gansey repeats, excited. "They sound less scary than cars."

"I'm sure there's Natural History Museum in Dublin," Adam says. "I'll check on Google Maps later and plan the trip, maybe find some tourist spots."

Gansey humms, taking another minute to think. "What's this _google map_? I don't remember learning about it in Muggle Studies."

Of course they don't learn about it in Muggle Studies—their Muggle Studies teacher considered cassette tapes high tech and phones actually didn't work in Hogwarts, either because there was no reception in the middle of nowhere, Scotland, or because there was too much magic for the electronics to work properly, so most muggleborns don't even bring their phones to school.

"It's an app—a software that allows you to see places and roads on your phone."

* * *

Ronan doesn't hate Parrish. Ronan doesn't lie so he can't say he hates having Adam at his home. He loves having him there. It almost seems like Adam belongs there.

His Ma knows which is not a surprise—Ronan never liked occlumency so he never bothers to hide away behind it, his mind might not be pure but his Ma's probably already seen everything overly embarrassing.

The first day, just after arriving, Ronan makes an ass out of himself—there's something about Parrish that makes Ronan eat his own words and replace them with something offending.

He tries to be helpful and offends Parrish. Tries to be friendly and seems like a jerk. Really, he's become Gansey at this point, just a Gansey that doesn't cover his swear words and can be an asshole when he wants to. Ronan spends half an hour with the cows, just to get the redness and embarrassment off his face.

His Ma has an amused smile when he enters the kitchen again, Gansey and Parrish nowhere in sight.

"They are in the library, honey," she says, softly. "I'm sure they'd like you to join them."

Parrish sure as hell doesn't want him anywhere near him.

"You're exaggerating," she adds, rolling her eyes. "Is Adam the boy you thought was a vee—"

"Ma," he protests, face red all over again. He hates his pale skin.

She holds up her hands "I'm only saying I can see where you were coming from... He's quite a handsome boy, a little bit too thin but—"

" _Ma_ ," he repeats, hiding behind his palms.

Adam _is_ beautiful, Ronan's known it for years. He's also known he hates Ronan's guts for years, for some reason.

His Ma sighs. "It's not true, baby. Anyone would love you."

"You're supposed to say this, you're my Ma," he notices.

She moves her wand and a chair slides out from the table. "Sit down and listen, honey."

His Ma might look like a sweet and innocent person but she's dealt with the scariest beasts in the world while travelling as a magizoologist and she rarely used _that_ tone so Ronan sits down.

"You're an amazing boy, amazing man and a treasure to have," she says, hands on her hips. " A little thick-headed, just like your father, but anyone would be lucky to have you, most certainly Adam."

She brushes his messy hair with her hand in a gentle gesture that reminds him about the days he was still being home-schooled and spending every waking minute with her and his brothers.

"You're going to go upstairs to your boy and try to be friends with him first, because I'm sure he wants to have you at least as a friend, make a better impression and show him the real you, honey. Everything is going to work out just fine."

Ronan believes her. Closes his eyes and lets her caress the curls that flop on his forehead.

A dove slips into the kitchen through a window crack, flies in circles around his Ma's head and lands on the table next to Ronan's hand. It's made of pastel blue paper that smells like lilacs—his mum's favourite.

His Ma takes it, caresses its back before it stills and unfolds the parchment. She frowns when she reads the content.

"Is Da alright?" he asks.

His mum sighs. "He and Ducky won't be back until Saturday night."

It didn't answer Ronan's question.

* * *

Dinner is uneventful. Gansey decides Parrish needs to have a tour around the farm.

Ronan isn't the best host—Gansey tended to piss him off with his superficial knowledge of magical farming, but he at least wasn't afraid to get dirty and his awkwardness with animals was kind of fun. It was different with Parrish—while the majority of wizards looked down on magical farming, Slytherins, in particular, hated it.

Ronan decided that showing Parrish the fluffiest animals is the best option, no one could resist big-eyed mooncalves and soft puffskeins, and he already knew Parrish would react well to them, thanks to the demiguise incident.

"Are those bicorns?" Parrish asks when they're half-way to the first habitat camouflaged as a barn.

Ronan and Gansey glance in the directions of Parrish's gaze. Gansey's been seeing weird beasts for years now so he isn't moved. There's a few bicorns between the cows on the field, their size and huge horns stand out—they _are_ basically cows, just producing milk and horns used for potion-making and spells, but they can, even tamed, look dangerous and respond to fear.

"Ah, yes, they've been here since I remember," Gansey supplies.

"Isn't it dangerous?"

Ronan crosses his arms. Maybe Parrish wasn't flawless then, since he's apparently a city slicker.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Parrish, they won't do anything to you."

Parrish narrows his beautiful eyes and the gesture makes Ronan want to bite his own tongue.

"I meant for the bicorns," he says, and although he doesn't add _you idiot_ , his raised eyebrow says it anyway. "Bicorns like space and I can see a muggle road behind them."

Well, Parrish is fucking flawless.

"The whole farm is under a magical barrier," Gansey explains, completely missing the tension between them. "It's actually quite fascinating, there's this confounding mist that—" And Gansey goes on rambling.

Parrish is one of the few people who actually listen to him.

"You want to come closer to them?" Ronan cuts in.

Parrish narrows his eyes again, looking away from Gansey to Ronan. "Actually, yes."

To hell with mooncalves—if Parrish is so bold, Ronan will oblige.

Gansey trails behind, frowning as he and Adam go hand-in-hand, Parrish's confidence doesn't flatter. Their cows and bicorns are basically domesticated and if anything happens, Ronan knows how to protect them.

Gansey grumbles behind them, not matching the picture in a cardigan, dress shoes and carefully ironed shirt—he's never blended in with the Lynch farm, despite being Ronan's childhood best friend—but Parrish doesn't look put off, trades in the field in the old jeans and washed-off polo shirt, back straight, head high—like a proper Slytherin. Like Ronan's father.

Ronan stops a good distance from one of the female bicorns, the one closest to the barns, expecting Parrish to halt with him. Instead, Parrish takes a steady couple of steps, looking at the ground and slowing down the closer he gets to the bicorn.

"Hello there," Parrish says, voice low and steady, hands out in front of him. "Does she have a name?"

He's asking if their cow has a name. Ronan's never met a more perfect man.

"Snickers," he says, blinking.

Parrish doesn't look his way, but doesn't look Snickers in the eyes either, a proper protocol in approaching cows or bicorns.

Instead, he says, in a soft, low voice, "Hello then, Snickers, I hope you take well to me."

"Is he doing it right?" Gansey asks, from behind him, startling him.

"Yeah." Perfect to the tee.

The bicorn moves her head in Parrish's direction, flickering her ears but not alarmed. Parrish takes a couple of steps closer, just in Snickers's reach, lowers his head, arms up, and waits.

Snickers bumps her head into his chest, horns catching on his shirt as she rubs them over his shoulder. Parrish chuckles, a gentle sound that stops Ronan's heart, and strokes her muzzle, not minding the saliva. In the corner of his eyes, Ronan notices another two bicorns wandering up to him and soon enough, Parrish is surrounded by cows, all fighting for his attention.

Ronan could relate.

Gansey sighs next to him. "I still haven't figured out how he does that."

"Does what?"

Gansey still doesn't look away from Parrish and if Ronan didn't know he was enamoured with Sargent, he'd have thought he was in love with Parrish too, just a little. "How he's so good at everything he does."

Ronan knows—it wasn't luck or talent or the simple way Parrish was made, it was knowledge. A learning curve. Parrish knew so many things and knew how to use that knowledge in a practical way, it was a matter of hard work Parrish put into everything, a matter of efforts, and hunger for more from life that drove him to be a perfectionist. The Slytherin ambition.

They don't go to the mooncalves, instead Parrish convinces Gansey to join him in petting bicorns.

* * *

"Is there a reception anywhere?" Adam asked the evening before, at the dinner table. "A signal?"

Gansey blinked at him, probably recognizing the term, and Lynch just stared. "A what?"

Aurora chuckled. "They're hopeless, aren't they," she remarked. "Try next to the gate, outside of the barrier, but I wouldn't bet my life on it."

They all stare at her, Adam surprised that someone from a wizarding posh family knows anything about muggle technology, Ronan and Gansey probably just confused.

"I did have a phone, back when they were still brick-sized."

So Adam stood on the driveway outside the gate with Gansey hovering over his shoulder when Adam checks, on Google Maps, the train times, opening hours of places like the Dublin Zoo and Phoenix Park and Dublin Castle. Each of those could be a day-long attraction but they didn't really have the time. There was a couple of places that Adam thought Gansey would like—like a vintage shop with old clothes and trinkets, or a music cafe—and the ordinary places that are part of Adam's muggle life, like charity shops, Dealz, and the cinema. They also check for commute in Dublin online, and twenty-four-hour tickets seem to be the best and cheapest option. Normally, Adam would spend more time calculating which are the least expensive in the long run but he doesn't have the time now. He's sure this little trip is going to eat all his savings from last summer.

Google Maps said they will have to walk about forty minutes to the town and the closest train station. The trains run about every hour so it wasn't that much of a problem.

The first problem happens when the three of them arrive at the bus station and Adam realizes they have the wrong currency. Adam had told Gansey they will need to have muggle money before they left Hogwarts and Gansey has a pile of twenties that just scream _pick-pocket me,_ part of which he gave Lynch. But Adam also thought they would be in Cornwall, not in Ireland and pounds were useless.

They need euros.

"Is this really such a difference?" Gansey asks.

Lynch is grumbling something about stupid muggles, which, Adam would point out any other time, was hypocritical, kicking his boots on the curb, and brushing his curls from his sweaty forehead—it's surprisingly hot for a beginning of April.

"You won't be able to pay for anything otherwise," he says. "There should be an exchange shop, either next to the train station or in the post office."

Then Gansey persuades Adam to explain how post office and mail works without owls. Adam and Blue had actually had a discussion about the ridiculousness of magical mail system and during summer, Professor Potter mostly texts Adam, refusing to wait for an owl to bring a letter after a couple of hours while they are both living in London, _the same city_.

"Owls weren't meant to be post animals," Adam adds, lightly, when Gansey is satisfied with the explanation of muggle mail system.

Lynch glances up at him, suddenly very interested in the conversation. "Why?"

"Omitting then obvious point that they are mostly night-time animals, they are actually hard to train, not human-friendly, and slow in comparison to other magical solutions, like Floo or teleportation or flight charms," Adam says, voice firm, expecting a challenge. "Carrying stuff in their claws for a prolonged time during flight my upset they posture and bones, and people send parcels that are heavy for _humans_ not to mention owls, which is just plain wrong and barbaric."

Lynch humms and he expects him to react to Adam's rant with some dumb rich boy shit, but he says, "My family doesn't use owls."

"Huh."

"But wizards have been using owls for centuries now and no one took it as an issue," Gansey says, and Adam realizes he's talking out of ignorance, but not from malicious ignorance. "Wouldn't we stop using them if this was so bad for them?"

"It's not how the world works, Dick," Lynch says, to Adam's surprise. "Convenient ignorance is a social standard, not a singular accident."

They exchange the money at the post office, Gansey decides to send a postcard which takes him a bit longer than it should but the clerk probably thinks it's because they are teens and teen rarely use post office nowadays.

Adam buys the tickets, in a ticket machine at the station, and Gansey hovers behind his shoulder, looking at the screen with a fascination that is both amusing and frustrating, while Lynch glares at anyone who even tries to come and queue behind them. Fortunately, Gansey doesn't insist on paying for Adam.

The train ride is quiet but uneventful, Gansey is fully caught in the things he can see through the dirty window.

"I wish I could take a photograph of this," Gansey remarks.

"We could, actually," Adam says, taking his phone out. When Gansey frowns, he adds, "Phones have a built-in camera, nowadays."

Gansey, again, hovers over him when Adam shows him the camera in the phone, and Lynch hovers behind Gansey, feigning disinterest. Adam turns on selfie mode—it's an old Samsung that Adam upgraded to only because someone was trying to sell it for parts on eBay and Adam managed to buy and repair it for a total of ten pounds, nothing as outrageous as a new iPhone. But Gansey's idea of a camera is that bulky thing that is a magical camera that takes moving pictures which resemble a polaroid from the eighties in size.

He takes a selfie, Gansey's chin basically on his shoulder and Lynch's head tilted back behind Gansey so he could see everything.

"Is there any way I could get a muggle phone today, too?" Gansey asks. Thankfully, there are not that many people around so no one hears this absurd question. "Maybe I could use it at Hogwarts, along with that google map."

"Bet you wouldn't be able to use it," Lynch remarks, still pretending to be uninterested.

"And you would?" Adam addresses him. "Did you suddenly become an expert in muggle technology, Lynch?"

Gansey fidgets as Lynch snorts, turning his back on them again, ears red with anger again.

"Phones don't really work at Hogwarts, not fully. We use them to call, like with the Floo, or text, which is like sending a letter but it comes within minutes. The only thing that could actually work around magic would be the camera," Adam continues, when it's clear Lynch doesn't want to add anything. "But we can buy you one today, if you want."

* * *

They first go to the music cafe, as it's noon. Lynch complains at the music, Gansey pulls out whole essays about muggle music from Adam, which is something Adam should not be talking about as he has shitty music taste.

He asks one of the waiters if there's a music shop somewhere around, a hole-in-the-wall kind of place that Google Maps doesn't show where you can buy discounted CDs and abandoned cassettes. There is one two streets away, in an alley behind Spar.

There is a man behind the counter, just lazily sitting there and reading a mag about guitars and he doesn't even look at them.

"Is this a vinyl record? We've seen them in class, didn't we?" Gansey holds up a squared packaging with Rolling Stones logo on it. "Would it be possible to get a record player for my dormitory?"

Adam can almost see a huge, retro record player standing in the Ravenclaw dorms and Gansey being unapologetic about it.

"That's not a great idea," Adam says, carefully. "But maybe we'll be able to get you a walkman."

He asks the guy behind the counter, if there is any chance he has old walkmans. He points at the worn-out old chest of drawers in the corner, says it's five euros a junk and goes back to his magazine. Adam tries to find one that would be the least scratched or cracked one and gives it to Gansey. It's a black Sony with some fancy bass regulation—or as fancy as a walkman can be—and Adam realizes there need to go and buy batteries and headphones, if Gansey wants to listen to what he'll buy first.

Gansey agrees that he would prefer to while Lynch wanders up to them, going through the drawer Adam pulled out. His face said that he didn't care but he was still looking through the walkmans.

They buy cheap headphones in Dealz, it's the closest store, they will buy another pair later, one that doesn't cost as much as a pre-made triple sandwich. Gansey proceeds to be enamoured with microwaveable mac 'n' cheese and give Adam brain damage when he tries to scan a bill like a credit card at the self-checkout.

They go back to the music store, Gansey buys about twenty cassettes, all from different genres, and packs them into his backpack, pitless thanks to an extension charm. Lynch doesn't ask for help, like Gansey does, Adam is pretty sure he chooses the cassettes at random.

They decide that the Zoo and the Castle and some small monuments Gansey wanted to see will be better to see the next day—Adam shows them the casual part of muggle life. Instead, they take a bus to a little street with charity shops around—Gansey buys some used novels, Adam buys a pair of earrings for Blue, Lynch buys _something_ , Adam didn't see what exactly though. There is a vintage shop nearby, something that Adam thinks Gansey would enjoy with his love for old and useless, overly expensive things and he does. He buys a watch that Adam would put as something from the wartime, puts it on as soon as the owner of the shop changes the battery in it, and buys old tomes with yellowing pages about fourteenth-century monarchy and Celtic mythologies and Victorian architecture.

Lynch is less interested in this part, but he doesn't complain much—probably because he sees how much Gansey is enjoying himself.

They go to the Phoenix Park, get a snack in a cafe just outside of it. It's on the pricier side and both Gansey and Lynch try to pay for him, which he promptly ignores for the sake of peace. They sit on the grass somewhere further inside the park, just go over the stuff Gansey found interesting, and eat their snacks.

It feels weirdly quiet—the biggest field of green near Adam's house in Newham was Beckton Park, and even there, he could still hear the noise of the town. Maybe it's a matter of size, maybe Dublin is generally just quieter.

Their final stop for the day is the market—it's full of tourists, overpriced souvenirs, 'crafts' and food stands, but it's something that Adam enjoyed from time to time. It reminds him of Christmas markets that his grandma liked to take him to, the couple times he had seen her before she died, and the sellers there are a bit warmer and talkative, even in cold-hearted London.

Gansey looks fascinated at basically everything he sees which isn't surprising—the bag with extension charm is heavy on him but he isn't discouraged, his eyes wander to every stall, looking for things he could buy.

Lynch doesn't seem as enthusiastic but Adam honestly can't imagine him excited about something, let alone something so trivial like a shamrock charms, poorly drawn leprechauns and obnoxiously green mugs with _I❤ IRELAND_.

Gansey doesn't buy the obnoxiously touristy keepsakes but Adam can see him paying for a mug done in imitation of traditional Irish pottery—it was too cheap to be actual traditional Irish pottery—and a sleeve of retro-styled postcards. He's chatting with the seller, natural Gansey charm turned on, while Adam and Ronan stand in front of the stall in silence.

The stall on the other side is selling books, old and used, and book-related goods. A box full of bookmarks catches his eye—on top of the pile, there's once made of beautiful, dark green lather that almost seems to be black, with golden embossing. Smooth lines on the top create a Celtic shield knot, more accurate than anything Adam could expect from muggles. It's something that a professor would use in an original copy of a sixteenth-century tome but it lied there, in a pile of souvenirs because the Celtic shield knot resembled and ornamented shamrock.

For a moment, Adam thinks about buying it—this specific knot was a symbol of protection and, if charmed right, could be used as a help in healing or a weak protection spell confined in an object. It was not only something beautiful, but it was also something Adam could make use of.

But it was probably overpriced and Adam might have wanted it but he didn't _need_ it. There will be a day when he will be able to afford things he has no need for, but right now, the luxury has a waiting time counted in years.

He looked away, back to Lynch. Lynch's eyes widen, just a tad, and then he turns his gaze away from him, ears red.

Gansey comes back and the shopping continues. They kind of wander off, each in their own direction, but Adam has a vague sense of where they are—Gansey went ahead, Ronan back and Adam turned to a stall with tea and coffee that could be a present for Professor Potter. He told Adam to bring back a gift and Adam isn't sure whether it was a joke or not, so he decided to buy something just in case. It's something people do—buy souvenirs for their friends and family, and Adam is sure Professor Potter was somewhere in between those two categories.

They are supposed to meet at the opposite entrance of the market, half an hour before their train back. Adam's phone shows that there are still forty minutes left so he takes the time to text back to Blue and sends Professor Potter a requested photo from the trip.

"Hey, Parrish," Ronan's voice is what takes Adam away from the screen. "Catch."

Adam does not, in fact, catch. He could but he wasn't about to listen to a word Lynch said, especially when he sounded like he was saying _fetch_ to a dog, so the thrown object bounces of his chest and falls on the ground with a flop.

He purposefully stares at Lynch, not looking at what hit him.

Lynch rolls his eyes, ears red—he pisses off quite easily. "It's a fucking gift, take it with grace or don't take it at all."

"I'll go with the second option then," Adam replies. "I don't want you to buy me anything."

Lynch takes a step closer, picking up what he threw. Adam looks down.

It's a bookmark. Or rather the bookmark, the one Adam noticed at the stall with vintage books.

"What is this?"

"Don't have eyes?" Lynch says, holding it out to Adam again. "It's a souvenir, for fuck's sake, just take it."

A gift is never only a gift. Sometimes, it's pity and, in the majority of cases, Adam rarely can receive this kind of gifts—Professor Potter, Teddy and Blue are the expectations, mostly because it feels less like pity and more like an equivalent exchange. Adam's pool of money is, in fact, more of a puddle, with his inability to work most of the year because of school, outside of tutoring he was only allowed to do this year, there were only summer holidays he could work during—he could rarely afford giving back physical things, but with this small exempted group, giving could be immaterial. Sometimes, it's a trick—it's a _I gave you something_ , _now you have to show you're grateful_ or it's a _I'm giving it to you to humiliate you_.

"I don't want it," he says and he might sound ungrateful but he doesn't care—Lynch isn't in the exception group.

"It's just a stupid souvenir," he says. "You didn't even buy anything from Dublin so I bought it for you."

"I bought _something_ ," Adam spats out.

"Yeah, what?"

He could lie but lying would feel like loosing.

"Tea."

The hand that Lynch was reaching out with flatters. "Tea? What are you, fifty?" he says. "Just fucking take it, I won't even use something in such obnoxiousl Slytherin colour."

And then, before Adam can retort anything, Lynch's hand wanders into the front pocket of Adam's sweater, shoving the bookmark in. Adam's palm reaches out on its own, grabbing Lynch by the knuckles and trying to push him off. Ronan takes a stop closer, shoulders up by the ears, and Adam's breath halts in his lungs.

It's familiar—he's towering over Adam, arms tilted up, angry frown creases his eyebrows when he looks down at Adam, when he pushes at Adam's grip.

Adam's back tenses, instinctively cowering and making him smaller and his mouth is dry. He can't move.

He hates this reaction.

Lynch slides the bookmark back into Adam's pocket, a satisfied smirk on his face. Adam takes his hand back. Lynch's smile slides off his face.

"Are you—"

Adam doesn't want to hear it. "Gansey," he interrupts. The bookmark is less important now, he can just leave it at the farmhouse before going to London. "Gansey should be here already."

He glances at his phone and his right. They have twenty-nine minutes to catch the train and Gansey shouldn't be late, Adam set the time in his newly bought vintage watch.

"You want to look for him?" Lynch asks.

"We don't really have a choice."

They go back to the market, searching around for khaki pants and thick-framed glasses. They go over the stalls and the further back they are, the more aware Adam is of the time. This isn't London, and if they miss the train, return to the farmhouse late, there won't be any consequences. Adam knows this, yes, but he also knows it's past six already and most places are closing and waiting another hour and a half for the next train with pissed off Lynch and overexcited Gansey would give him a headache.

Being honest with himself, Adam feels tired. It's not yet the pre-full moon pain that makes his bones crack with every move or make him hungry, with a starving stomach that eats itself, but it's the pre-fullmoon tiredness that closes his eyes for a second longer than it should and that makes his head dizzy. There is a reason Adam doesn't have that many friends—the trip was nice but a bed or a couch or even a blanket on the floor and silence would be nicer right now.

Gansey is at the entrance to the market—the one they used first—talking to a woman who is selling jewellery. Adam's phone tells him there are sixteen minutes left to the train. The train will be delayed—all the trains are—but at this point, there is no way they are going to be at the station on time.

Lynch doesn't hesitate, just grabs Gansey by the elbow and trails him behind himself.

"Thank you!" Gansey says, probably back to the seller, and then turns around. "What the heck, Ronan?"

"We're late," Adam explains. "We're going to miss the train."

Adam stops in his tracks, realizing there's no reason to hurry—they won't make it on feet, or even if they catch a bus.

"Parrish?" Lynch says, stopping a couple of steps ahead.

He takes a few seconds, looking from Gansey's expecting face to Lynch's unexpectedly neutral expression, and calculates pros and cons. This isn't really a tough decision.

Adam turns around, back to a small dirty alley they just passed, closely followed by the two.

"You'll pretend you saw nothing," he says. "I mean it."

Gansey and Lynch look to each other, a silent conversation happens, like often with the two of them, and then they turn back to Adam.

"Are you going to flash us in a dirty alley?" Lynch remarks. "It ain't really Dick's thing."

Gansey, bless his heart, elbows him in the ribs. "Don't be crude."

Adam could retort many things to that. Like Lynch having nasty thoughts or the whole remark implying it _is_ not Lynch's thing, but instead Adam holds back a sigh.

"Just shut up and take my hand."

He doesn't have enough patience to argue—Gansey grabs Adam's elbow without protests while Lynch stares at him, doing the jaw thing again.

"Fuck you," he finally grumbles, taking Adam's hand. His palm is so sweaty that it actually distracts Adam for a moment. He wants to wiggle his fingers out and wipe them off on his jeans.

Adam tries to focus, visualize the train station, or rather the shoddy, unused bathroom there and recall the squeezing, tumbling feeling of apparating.

When he first managed to apparate on his own, he thought his bones broke in the process, crushed by the pressure of magic, an ache radiating throughout his muscles. He was unprepared back then—now, it felt like a squeezing hug that Blue would give him on the first day of school, still too tight and overwhelming but short and heart-crushing.

They appear in the bathroom with a pop, Gansey stumbling into Adam's shoulder, Lynch tugging Adam's hand.

"The hell?"

"I'm actually with Ronan on this," Gansey adds, adjusting his crooked glasses. "That was unexpected. Deeply impressive but unexpected."

"You saw nothing," Adam reminds. "We have a train in five."

"Aren't you going to be in trouble? You're still under seventeen," Gansey continues. "Isn't someone from the Ministry going to notice you doing magic outside of school?"

"Parrish, in trouble? My Ma could—"

"The law is a lie," he interrupts before Lynch goes deeper into the topic of rich people with connections in high places. He starts in the direction of the door, they still have to find where the train will stop. "They don't care as long as you don't break the statute of secrecy or hurt anyone."

"And who exactly even taught you?" Lynch says. "My Da didn't even want me to try."

Adam narrows his eyes. "It's not really your business, innit?"

"Can we apparate to Dublin tomorrow?" Gansey butts in. His expression is curious, the same way it would be if he found a new history book or a new muggle thing that were unusual and obscure. This, although weird when aimed at Adam, is by far his favourite expression on Gansey, it made him look actually sixteen. "Not that I didn't love the train ride, that is, but I'd prefer to spend the hour looking around the historical sites around Dublin."

"Sure," Adam says. "At least we won't be late."

"Yeah, Dick," Lynch adds. "What were you spending your parents' money on that took you so fucking long?"

Well, at least it was Lynch who said that.

"Ah," is all that Gansey replies with. They step into the train and he's suddenly shy. "It's just a small thing for Blue."

He's never understood Gansey's—for the lack of better word— _crush_. Not because it was Blue, that part was understandable, since Adam actually dated her for some time in the fourth year. The whole thing seemed abstract to him though—how could you like someone you never even held a proper conversation with? Someone who seemed to hate your guts?

Adam frowns, glances at Gansey's pinkish face, and when he pointedly avoids making eye contact with anyone, he looks to Ronan, who looks back with slightly widened eyes.

"He's not joking," Lynch says. Gansey shrugs.

If Adam was a weaker man, he'd sigh and tell Gansey he's an idiot. He isn't and Professor Potter told him to make friends and be nice so he won't do it.

Fortunately, Lynch doesn't have the same take backs. "Sargent doesn't want you to buy her anything."

For some reason, Lynch understood that Blue didn't want _gifts_ from rich boys, but didn't understand that Adam _didn't_ want them either.

"It's just a ring, nothing too special," Gansey protests. "It's a traditional ring, here, so it's like a souvenir too. It's not a big deal."

This sounds like something Gansey will be kicked for.

"A ring?" Adam hopes, _prays_ , it's something made of fake silver with even faker jewel and cheap Celtic embossing.

Gansey takes out a ring from a small linen bag and it's definitely pure gold, shaped into hands holding a heart in a crown—not only an expensive gift but also one with a meaning Gansey apparently isn't aware of.

"You _really_ shouldn't give her that. Or even try to."

"Why not?" he asks, not unkindly. "You bought her earrings. It's not that different."

"Yes, but I've actually been friends with her for years," he says, _admits_. Not to mention, the earrings Adam bought for Blue were going to be a birthday present, the touristy Irish tree of life motif looked like normal trees, which Blue would love. "Cheap earrings are not the same as a _golden_ ring, especially _this one_."

Lynch glances over Gansey's shoulder and promptly bursts into laughter.

"What the hell," he says and his eyes, with an amused spark, meet Adam's. "Were you going to propose at sixteen?"

Adam, holding back his own teasing smile, explains, "It's a—a claddagh ring. For some time, it was traditionally used in Ireland as an engagement ring and then a wedding ring. I don't think muggles use it much nowadays, but it's still quite popular with high born Irish wizards."

Adam can practically see Gansey's face getting redder and redder with his every word—it's a sight he's never seen before. He keeps himself from grinning at that, but Lynch doesn't have the same problem.

"My Ma has one too," Ronan adds. "It's my Da's family heirloom. Whoever gets married first will take it as a wedding ring for their spouse."

He notices the blatant use of _spouse_ —there are three Lynch brothers and the use of _spouse_ implies something very specific. It's not as surprising as one could think, Lynch does not look very straight. Adam tries not to touch on it.

"Oh, well," Gansey says. "In this case, it might wait a little bit."

 _Wait_. Like he is completely sure he will, at some point in the future, give it to Blue. Adam would love to have this amount of confidence in himself.

They leave it at that. The next day, Aurora adds Adam to the barrier with a blood spell, so he can apparate from the farm and Adam side-alongs them to Dublin. And they don't say anything about the ring or about Adam's illegal skills. And Gansey is still afraid of _automobiles._ And maybe Adam trusts them a bit more. Maybe this is what having friends means.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think Niall was from Belfast in the books?? But I had a professor who was from the south of Dublin and I now imagine every Irish person as having his accent so... yeah, I changed that...
> 
> Next chapter will include rest of the stay in the barns, Ronan embarrassing himself further and, finally, ghost Noah so stay tuned.
> 
> Thanks everyone for the support, comments, kudos and bookmarks!

**Author's Note:**

> _Pardon my English, it's not my first language. Also, this fic uses British Eng, I live in the UK, but I write majorly in American Eng so please ignore any mistakes in spelling and such._


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